Call For Help
by FraidyCat
Summary: Herein lies an AU look at Amita's abduction and Charlie's marriage proposal. Feel free not to click on the blue link if this disturbs you. Try to show some self-control, if you do.
1. Bridge Scene

**Call for Help**

**by FraidyCat**

**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs characters respectfully borrowed from CBS et al. No claim of ownership comes from The Cat. Those who seek to bestow money or goods-in-kind in appreciation of these characters should contact CBS, as The Cat will refuse to profit from this story.

**Summary:** Here lies an Alternate Universe; what could have happened during the Season 5 epis "Greatest Hits" and "Angels and Devils", and a possible continuation of the storyline introduced there. _**Read at your own risk.**_

**Review Policy**: As of 5-19-08, the author adopts the following review policy: Please feel free to state your opinion, whether it be positive or negative. Anonymous Reviews have been disabled on this account, since the author does find it difficult to respect cowards. Any review submitted may generate a response from the author; even negative reviews will be accepted – although they may open a dialogue between the author and the reviewer.

**..................................................................................................................................................................................**

**Chapter One**

Don had just completed the seven-minute walk from Charlie's new office to Visitor Parking Lot A. He grinned and shook his head a little as the SUV came into sight. Charlie's new status on campus had earned him something even more impressive and sought-after than his new office: reserved parking, complete with his name stenciled on the asphalt. Their father had purposely gone to the lot when he knew Charlie was not there, so he could take a picture of the stark-white "Dr. Eppes" with his cell phone, so even though Don had not seen the parking space live and up-close yet, he knew about it. He had teased his father about sneaking the photo, but in truth, Don found the whole thing rather momentous and awe-inspiring himself. He was proud of the little weasel, in spite of himself.

He had just opened the driver's door of the Suburban when his cell rang -- Charlie's ringtone. He paused in the pool of light offered by the vehicle's dome light and smirked as he answered the cell. "Come on, Chuck; there's a beautiful woman in your office and you just saw me a few minutes ago!" Unknowingly echoing Alan Eppes' recent advice to Charlie, Don added teasingly, "You need to work on your priorities!" He stopped talking abruptly when the ragged breathing registered. A tingle of alarm ran up and down his spine. "Charlie?"

"Too 'er," slurred his brother, shouting into the phone. " 'elp, Don!"

Don slammed the car door and started in a jog back towards his brother's office. "Charlie," he ordered in his best Big Brother voice -- his Team Leader voice was just a slight variation of it -- "calm down, Buddy! Where are you? Where's Amita?"

Charlie slurred something unintelligible, spiking Don's already significant alarm. A CalSci campus security truck zoomed past him, lights flashing, and Don felt himself begin to panic. "Charlie!" He was shouting, now. Instead of his brother's voice, the next sounds he heard were a cacophony of unknown voices, the clattering of a cell phone onto cement, an approaching siren that Don could be picking up over the cell, or could be hearing with his other ear. He increased the speed of his jog to a dead run. "Charlie!" he called again.

Within seconds that felt like hours, a female voice he did not recognize answered him. "Um...hello?"

"Who is this?" demanded Don. "Where's my brother? Where's Dr. Eppes?"

The girl's voice, already breathless, trembled a bit. "This is Dr. Eppes' brother? The F.B.I. agent?"

"Yes, yes," Don confirmed. "_WHERE IS HE?_" he repeated.

"I think you'd better come," she replied. "We found him on the sidewalk, in front of the Math & Sciences building. He was on his hands-and-knees, trying to get up and garbling into his cell; he's bleeding...we called campus security."

"I'm right around the corner," Don panted, his stomach dropping like a stone to his shoes. His free hand rubbed at his chest, and he felt as if someone was stabbing him again. "Where's Dr. Ramanujan?"

His contact was starting to sound increasingly freaked out. "She wasn't here, but I think he's been calling for her. It's hard to understand him....Oh, God, I think he may have passed out."

Don didn't even bother to answer as he sprinted around the corner of the building and spied the small group of students gathered in a huddle. One young woman had Charlie's phone to her ear, and several others were kneeling on the sidewalk, surrounding his brother's still body.

Oh, God.

His brother's body.

What the hell had happened in the seven minutes it took Don to get to his car? Where was Amita? The approaching siren was louder now, and Don prayed that it was an ambulance as he tore threw the crowd, practically tossing a 200-pound male student half his age out of his way. He dropped to his knees, completely unaware of his still-healing body's protests to the jarring sensation. He hurriedly jammed his phone back into his pocket, withdrew his I.D. and literally threw it at the campus security personnel. "F.B.I., " he barked, feeling the own blood drain from his face as his eyes took in the trickle of blood running down Charlie's forehead, past closed eyes. "Dr. Eppes is my brother. What happened?"

The campus officer answered briskly. "He just lost consciousness. An ambulance is on the way. He kept repeating that 'they took Amita' -- Dr. Ramanujan."

Before Don could respond, another member of the CalSci security team stepped up behind the man kneeling on the ground. "Eric, we found a purse over by the bushes. Witness says it looks like Dr. Ramanujan's."

Don jerked his head up. "Don't touch it," he ordered. "Secure this scene, immediately. Call in more security if you have to. DO IT!" he screamed, and the officer scurried away. Don looked back down at his brother. With one hand he caressed the stubbled face and slid down to check the carotid pulse. His fear was tempered by relief when he found one; rapid, but strong. He placed his hand lightly on Charlie's chest and felt the regular inhale and exhale of his unconscious brother. Determination pushed the fear out of his voice when he leaned to speak into Charlie's ear. "We'll find her, Buddy," he promised, fiercely. "I'll take care of everything."

**..................................................................................................................................................................................**

**Chapter 2**

Charlie had remained unconscious throughout the ambulance ride to the hospital. Don tried to stay close to his brother's gurney and out of the way at the same time. His hands ensnared one of Charlie's cool, clammy ones between them, and he didn't let go until the hospital personnel who awaited them in the ambulance bay ripped Charlie away from him, leaving Don feeling more bereft and lost than he could ever remember feeling before. He stood dumbly for a while in the middle of the ER until a Pink Lady magically appeared and led him to a seat. She gently led him through paperwork, and before she left, reminded him that cell phone use was permitted in the ER waiting area. There was also a landline available, if he needed one. It was only then that Don thought to call his father, and Robin. He was on the phone will Colby, asking him to find out what he could from CalSci security and the Pasadena PD, when he heard Charlie yelling from somewhere behind Door Number One.

Don stood and staggered to the triage desk, begging for entry to the exam area. "That's my brother," he explained. "Maybe I can help calm him down." The harried ward clerk apparently agreed, and Don was granted access. He hurried through the automatic doors after she buzzed him in, just in time to witness Charlie exploding from a cubicle about twenty feet down the corridor. His clothing had been removed, and a hospital gown -- untied in the back -- flapped wildly around him, exposing other patients and staff alike to more of his anatomy than Don had seen in years. A square of white gauze peeked out from beneath a halo of out-of-control curls, and several feet of clear IV tubing snaked along the linoleum behind him. At least three women -- nurses, probably -- and one burly man squeezed through the door after him, shouting at him to stop. He made it only a few feet before the man caught up to him and grabbed an arm; Charlie skidded to a halt at the same time that he saw Don in the distance.

"Donny!" he yelled, eyes wide and terrified. "They took Amita! They took Amita!"

Don rushed forward and latched a hand onto one of Charlie's shoulders. "We're gonna fix it," he promised his brother. "Just let the docs patch you up."

Charlie shook his head and Don felt something moist on his forearm -- a tear had flown out of Charlie's eye. "I can't remember!" he cried. "I didn't see enough before they hit me!" He twisted a fist into Don't polo. "Hypnotize me! Make me remember! Oh, God, Amita!" Charlie's knees buckled, but Don and the orderly managed to keep him on his feet. One of the nurses stepped up to tie the gown behind Charlie, and after a few moments, Don and the orderly managed to get him turned around, and headed back to the exam room.

"Colby and I are all over this," Don soothed his now-quietly sobbing brother as he helped settle him back on the gurney. "Let's get your head examined -- God knows you've needed that for years, Buddy. Amita is going to want to find you healthy when we get her back."

Charlie, sitting on the edge of the gurney while a nurse reconnected his IV, let himself slump into Don' s chest. "Please," he begged plaintively. "Please. Donny, I need her. Please find her. Please..."

Don moved a hand up to support Charlie's neck, smoothing the curls there and murmuring promises he would keep -- or die trying. "I've gotcha," he whispered earnestly. "Just relax, Buddy; Donny's here. I'm here." Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'll fix it," he swore to his calming brother. "As God is my witness, Charlie, I'll fix it."

**....................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Charlie was eerily quiet when he returned from a CT scan. He had been at the hospital several hours by now; Alan had arrived long ago. Don had been pacing the waiting room, torn between being on the abduction scene himself and staying available to his brother. It was killing him to be reduced to trusting Colby explicitly. It wasn't a personal issue -- by now, David was involved as well, and even Nikki had been tapping into some of her old LAPD resources. One of them called him with an update every hour. Don still felt somewhat out of the loop, however, when he wasn't in the thick of things himself. After Robin arrived, and Don knew that his father wouldn't be alone, he came close to leaving before he got to see Charlie again. In fact, he was just turning to break the news to Alan when a doctor came to speak with them.

Afterwards, Alan and Don were allowed to visit Charlie, who was still in the ER exam cubicle. When Don took in his brother's completely changed demeanor, his almost bizarre stillness, he wondered if he had missed the part where Charlie's doctor said that they had sedated him. He allowed their father to rush forward to a position closest to the gurney and hung back by the sliding glass door. "Hey, Buddy," he greeted quietly.

Charlie sought him out with clear eyes over the back of a bending Alan, who was leaning to brush his hair gently away from his face, and Don could see that he was not sedated. "Get me out of here," he said to Don. "Take me to headquarters. The longer someone is missing..." -- he swallowed, painfully -- "I want to help."

Alan straightened and shot a glance over his shoulder at Don before he looked back at Charlie and smiled sadly. "The doctor wants to keep you overnight, son. The CT scan was clear, but you were unconscious, and...volatile. There could be complications, later. Everyone is already working very hard on Amita's abduction."

Charlie shook his head slightly, wincing a little, and Don agreed with his father. "Dad's right, Charlie. My team is on it, Pasadena PD is on it, LAPD is lending resources. I'm going to meet everyone at the office myself, soon."

Charlie closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them they were moist and dark with pain when he looked at his father. "I'm fine. I have to do this, Dad. Amita...I didn't understand how much she means to me." He reached out and touched Alan's hand. "I can't live without her. I don't want to, and I won't."

Alan's own eyes welled with tears as he remembered losing Margaret, remembered clearly how he had felt exactly the same way. He had been blessed to still have Don and Charlie, their sons, pieces of her. Without them, he still wasn't sure he would have chosen to survive her loss. Charlie didn't have that kind of comfort. What he did have, was a remarkable and limitless mind, capable of amazing and astonishing things. Perhaps he really could help find Amita, in some way. No-one understood better than Alan himself how vital it was that Charlie at least try. He laid a hand on Charlie's head again as he half-turned to look Don in the eye. "You know what to watch for; keep an eye on your brother."

Don nodded seriously; it was a responsibility he did not take lightly -- never had. "I will," he promised.

Alan nodded once and his eyes strayed to a plastic bag of Charlie's personal belongings sitting on the floor near the wall. "You help him get dressed," he ordered. "I'll go sign him out AMA."

**...........................................................................................................................**


	2. The Answer

**Call for Help**

**by FraidyCat**

**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs characters respectfully borrowed from CBS et al. No claim of ownership comes from The Cat. Those who seek to bestow money or goods-in-kind in appreciation of these characters should contact CBS, as The Cat will refuse to profit from this story.

**Summary:** Here lies an Alternate Universe; what could have happened during the Season 5 epis "Greatest Hits" and "Angels and Devils", and a possible continuation of the storyline introduced there. **_Read at your own risk._**

**Review Policy: **As of 5-19-08, the author adopts the following review policy: Please feel free to state your opinion, whether it be positive or negative. Anonymous Reviews have been disabled on this account, since the author does find it difficult to respect cowards. Any review submitted may generate a response from the author; even negative reviews will be accepted – although they may open a dialogue between the author and the reviewer**.**

**..................................................................................................................................................................................**

_Our next scene takes place at the end of "Angels and Devils", immediately after Charlie's proposal, and reflects my own interpretive dance._

**..................................................................................................................................................................................**

**Chapter 3**

Charlie got down on one knee, reaching into his pocket at the same time, and Amita frowned. God knew, she loved this man to within an inch of his life -- but he had absolutely no sense of timing, if he was about to do what she thought he was. Not to mention romance. She had to tell this story to countless people, after all; how romantic was the quad outside their offices at CalSci, anyway? Actually, it was probably one of Charlie's favorite places in the world, and therefore highly romantic to him, but this was _her_ proposal. She wanted to be able to remember Carmel at sunset, or Paris in the springtime, dammit!

"Amita," Charlie said, smiling widely and holding out the ring. "Will you marry me?"

_Oh, shit_, she thought. _Oh, shit_.

**....................................................................................................**

Don glanced at his watch as he brought the beer to his mouth for another swallow. "So where's Charlie?" he asked as he lowered the bottle. "It's only been a couple of days since we got Amita back; I'm surprised he's not still sleeping. He should have been exhausted."

Alan nodded, sipping his own beer. "You would think so," he agreed after the hops and barley passed through his throat. "I know I was." He chuckled. "Still am, actually. I'm not sure Charlie has slept, yet; he's on some kind of natural high. I predict he will crash and burn this weekend."

Don smiled. "You're probably right." He sighed, and his voice took on a note of wonder. "He really loves her, doesn't he? When that Jeep burst into flames in the parking garage, and we all thought Amita was dead...Dad, I hope I never see Charlie that broken again."

Alan shuddered. "I can only imagine." He shifted in his chair. "You know, when he was studying at Oxford -- and living with Susan Berry -- your mother and I took a trip to Europe and spent a few days in London with them."

"I remember that trip," Don responded. "You guys were celebrating your 25th wedding anniversary." He huffed a laugh. "I don't remember hearing much about Susan until years later, though."

Alan smiled. "Well, it was none of our business," he remarked, shrugging. "She was a pleasant-enough woman. Certainly intelligent. But it didn't _feel_ like the real thing...it didn't feel the same, watching them together, as it does watching him with Amita." He smiled again. "I just hope he doesn't cruise along at his comfortable pace forever. He needs to think about warp speed, at his age."

Don laughed, lifting his beer again. "I guess I'm really in trouble, then."

**......................................................................................**

Charlie's smile faltered, and the hand holding the ring box began to waver. "Amita?"

She tried to smile. "Stand-up, Charlie. Please."

Not exactly the enthusiastic response for which he had been hoping. Charlie searched her face for clues, and reluctantly came to his feet, awkwardly shoving the ring into his jacket pocket on the way up. "Amita?" he asked again, his voice cracking.

Her eyes flickered to a stone bench a few feet away in the quad, then back in Charlie's direction -- although she appeared to be unable to raise her gaze above his chin. "Can we sit?"

_Just shoot me instead,_ Charlie thought. He swallowed, then took her elbow, guiding her toward the bench. "Of course." He wanted to die. At least twice.

They were silent for a few moments after they settled, slightly facing each other, on the bench. Then Amita reached out and trailed a soft hand across his stubbled jaw. Her eyes were dark with emotion. "I _do_ love you, Charlie," she started. "I would like to be your wife...someday."

Charlie's heart leapt a few inches and then thudded into his shoes. "Someday?" he echoed.

She gripped one hand with the other in her lap. "This is...really bad timing," she informed him. "I'm not some television heroine who can be violently abducted and held against my will for two days and bounce right back. I don't think this is a good time for me to make any major decisions about...life changes. I need to get my feet back under me; get used to the idea of solid ground, again."

Charlie brushed her hair back from her face and she closed her eyes briefly. "I didn't mean to rush you," he assured. "It can be a long engagment. If we get married at the end of next school year, we could take a two-month honeymoon. Travel around Europe, or South America...India! All three, maybe."

"It's not just that," Amita answered. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life knowing we got married as a...as a _reaction_ to something horrible that happened. I don't want our marriage to be rooted in fear."

Charlie's brow furrowed. "I thought...yes, I was terrified the entire time you were gone; I never want to feel that way again. But I don't feel as if I'm being motivated by fear. The events of this last year have just convinced me not to waste any more time!"

Amita tilted her head slightly. "Charlie, there are some important things we've never even talked about; not the least of which is children."

His confusion was apparent in his voice. "What about them?"

She reached out and held one of her hands between both of hers. "Neither one of has asked the other if we even want any -- let alone how many, or when. Do you see yourself with children, Charlie?"

He blinked. "Y-yes," he admitted after a moment. "I always saw myself with a son..." He tried to smile disarmingly. "But now I want a little girl who looks just like her mother!"

Amita smiled sadly. "You'd be a wonderful father. You should have children; but I'm not sure. I'm almost 34 years old, and I'm just getting started in my career. Sometimes I'm not sure I want to stop the momentum for at least ten more years -- and by then, it might be too late." She shrugged. "Look at Millie."

Charlie sat back as if she had slapped him, and his hand slipped from hers. "But...we can work all that out," he insisted. "If we time the pregnancy right, you can have the baby at the beginning of summer and... I could take a sabbitical, or maybe even go into consulting full-time, working mostly from home. You wouldn't have to stop teaching."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Amita laughed. "Charlie, when I say you'll be a 'wonderful father', I mean that you will be fun, and loving, and encouraging. When you get stressed or just involved in something, you hardly remember to take care of _yourself_. I'm not sure that I could in good conscience leave you in charge of a defenseless infant."

That stung, and the expression of hurt on Charlie's face showed it. "That's not fair," he protested. "You're not being fair!"

She reached for his hand again, and gentled her voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you -- I'm just trying to point out that there is a lot to talk about, before we talk about marriage."

Charlie was sulking, now. "I thought that's what an engagement was for," he huffed.

Amita sighed. "I'm so sorry, Charlie. I just can't say 'yes' right now. Can't we just go on the way we have been?"

"I don't know," he answered despondently. "I suppose that depends on whether we can find a way to put the toothpaste back in the tube."

**...........................................................................................**


	3. Elephant in the Living Room

**Call for Help**

**by FraidyCat**

Disclaimer: Numb3rs characters respectfully borrowed from CBS et al. No claim of ownership comes from The Cat. Those who seek to bestow money or goods-in-kind in appreciation of these characters should contact CBS, as The Cat will refuse to profit from this story.

_Continued scenes taking place after "Angels and Devils", after Charlie's proposal, and reflecting my own interpretive dance._

**...................................................................................................................................**

**Chapter 4**

Don was just thinking about heading home when he heard Charlie's car pull into the driveway. He glanced over at Alan, who had been fast asleep for the last half-hour, and grinned. His father hadn't heard a thing. He pushed himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen, stopping to gather dead soldiers along the way. He was surprised when he collected six empties; Alan was usually only good for a couple of brews at a time, so it looked as if Don himself had consumed more than he realized. Maybe he should stay here for the night after all, he mused as he elbowed his way into the kitchen.

He was dropping the last bottle into the recycle bin under the sink when the kitchen door opened, admitting a subdued Amita, followed by Charlie. Don smiled in greeting, but Amita dropped her eyes immediately – and Charlie wouldn't even look at him. "I'm going on up," Amita announced to them both. "I'm still pretty tired."

Don watched her head for the house proper, a bit nonplussed. Granted, Robin and he did not share living quarters on a regular basis as of yet, but whenever one of them stayed with the other, they tended to at least kiss each other _'goodnight'_. Amita had only been living at the Craftsman for a few months; surely the bloom was not off the rose this soon. "Sleep well, Amita," he said, and she glanced quickly at him and then away again.

"Thank-you," she answered softly, pausing at the swinging door to look back at Charlie. "Will you be up soon?"

Charlie hadn't moved from his spot just inside the door, and he was finding his feet fascinating. "Pretty soon," he said noncommitingly. "Good-night."

" 'Night," Amita murmured, not even slowing down as she continued out of the kitchen.

Don waited until he heard light steps on the staircase, then crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out two more beers. Oh, yeah; he was definitely sleeping on the couch tonight. Either that, or in his old childhood bed. He hadn't really felt comfortable staying there since Amita moved in. It was right across the hall from Charlie's room, and there were certain things he did not particularly want to hear. From the looks of things, though, there was little danger of that tonight.

He plunked one of the brown bottles onto the kitchen table and raised an eyebrow. "Buddy."

"Thanks," Charlie answered in a dispirited voice, moving slowly, as if his muscles were sore, to sit at the table. Don used the bottle opener to flip the top from his own beer, then moved to set the opener in front of his brother. Casually, he sat down opposite him and took a long drink. He waited.

Eventually, Charlie mimicked his actions, sighing as he sat the bottle back on the table. He rotated the longneck between his fingers for a moment, then sighed again and dropped his hand to his lap. He finally looked at Don, and smiled lopsidedly. Don smiled back, but remained silent. Charlie's hand came back up to the surface of the table, and he dropped the ring box beside the beer. "I asked her to marry me," he announced.

Don opened his mouth to tell his brother how great that was, but then his mind made the connection. Charlie still had the ring. "She said _'no'_?" he asked, incredulous.

Charlie looked at a spot somewhere over Don's head. "Not so much _'no'_ outright, as a refusal to say _'yes'_," he clarified. "She says…." He seemed to consider the rest of his sentence, then dropped his gaze again to meet Don's eyes. "Well, it's between us, I guess."

Don was nothing short of stunned. He wasn't sure what to say. "Is she moving out?" he finally asked.

Charlie paled as if the thought had not occurred to him, and his eyes widened. "I don't know."

Don's eyes dropped to the ring. "When did you have time to buy that, anyway?"

Charlie snorted, and beer came out his nose. He coughed, and Don shoved a napkin at him. Charlie wiped his face and shrugged. "I've had it for a month. I was waiting until we could get away for a weekend together, but then everything happened…and I just couldn't wait, anymore." He shrugged again. "Chalk up another one in the poor timing department."

Don nudged Charlie's hand with his beer bottle. "Give her time. She's been through a lot this week."

"I know," Charlie answered morosely. "I should have realized that."

He looked so sad that Don's heart went out to him. He forced himself to smile. "It'll work out, Buddy," he promised. "The two of you love each other."

Charlie contemplated his beer. "I'm beginning to think that's not enough," he said.

**………………………………………………………………………………………………**

Amita lay curled up on her side, facing the bedroom door, the fetal position presenting a small and vulberable package that made Charlie feel even worse. She did not ordinarily sleep in such a position. Once they were in bed together, he would spoon around her; if she retired first, she was always flat on her back when Charlie joined her. Ever since the abduction, though, she had assumed this defensive position in her sleep. He should have known she was feeling susceptible, unsafe; he shouldn't have added to her burdens.

Charlie sighed and stripped down to his boxers before sliding into the other side of the bed. He lay on his back, his hands on the pillow behind his head, and blinked at the ceiling.

The thing was, he hadn't thought that a marriage proposal was a bad thing.

He loved Amita; she loved him; he believed that. Marriage was the next logical step in their relationship. It should have been a moment of joy, a distraction from all that they had been through, recently. How did everything go so wrong?

He turned his head slightly to look at the back of her head, the dark hair a sheen in the moonlight, then refocused on the ceiling. When he had first thought about proposing to Amita, it had not even occurred to him that she might say 'no'. He had no idea what they were supposed to do now. How could they just slip back into the comfort zone in which they had been living and pretend nothing had ever happened? The proposal would be like an elephant in the living room; huge, lumbering; silent and ignored yet wreaking its havoc anyway. And if he was honest about it, his feelings were more than a little hurt. For the last several years, he had turned to Amita for comfort when his feelings were hurt. What was he supposed to do now?

He couldn't stop his mind from working; worse yet, he couldn't stop his body from its automatic response to her lying next to him. He wanted to hold her, as he did every night, and yet he was unsure if even a chaste touch would be welcome at this point.

He remembered how unhappy he had been just a few years before, when Amita was considering accepting a position at Harvard, and moving away. It was at the very beginning of their relationship; still, he had believed he would never feel so bad again. When she had decided to stay, it was as if the sun had burst through a cloud. Now, he lay next to her, stiff and miserable, and found himself wishing she had left him then. As much as it had hurt -- it was nothing like this. Nothing.

When he started crying, he slipped from the bed and stumbled from the room, no clear destination in mind.

Amita lay curled on her side, her long hair falling over her face, and watched him go.

**………………………………………………………………………………………………**

Alan awoke to find himself fully clothed and drooling in the recliner. He blinked a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark shadows of the living room, and picked at the blanket that someone had tossed over him. He yawned voraciously, and after about a minute lowered himself to the floor.

When he stood, he was relieved to see the lump on the couch. Donny had slept over; good. Since Amita moved in, his son rarely slept in his old bed anymore, but Alan could identify with that reluctance. Even though his own bedroom was at the opposite end of the hall from Charlie's, they were young people. Sometimes they got a little…enthusiastic. He stopped to rearrange the blanket slipping off his son and dropped his own to the floor beside the couch, in case Don got cold later. Then he headed slowly up the stairs, a nightlight in the upper hall guiding his way.

By the time he had reached the top, he was wide awake, and he veered toward the solarium for a little star-gazing. The telescope Larry had given Charlie for his birthday several years ago had certainly provided everyone in the house with hours of relaxation and peace; especially when Larry was on his space mission. Charlie was at the telescope almost every night that Larry was gone, almost as if he truly expected to see his best friend waving to him from a galaxy far, far away. Alan smiled at the memory and paused just inside the doorway; there appeared to be another lump on the couch in here.

Alan frowned. Had Larry come home with Charlie and Amita? The physicist certainly was welcome here, and had spent several nights in the solarium. He preferred sleeping under the stars to the guest bedroom downstairs, he said. The moon came out from behind a cloud, shining more light through the window, and Alan's eyes widened.

He would know that curly head anywhere.

Charlie was sleeping on the couch in the solarium, instead of in his own bed with Amita? What the hell?

**....................................................................................**

………………………………………………………………………………………………


	4. The Zoo in the Kitchen

**Call for Help**

**by FraidyCat**

**Disclaimer:** All characters inhabiting this story are the property of Heuton, Falacci, CBS, et al. All monetary donations will be refused by the author.

**Review Policy:** As of 5-19-08, the author adopts the following review policy: Please feel free to state your opinion, whether it be positive or negative. Anonymous Reviews have been disabled on this account, since the author does find it difficult to respect cowards. Any review submitted may generate a response from the author; even negative reviews will be accepted – although they may open a dialogue between the author and the reviewer.

_Continued scenes taking place after "Angels and Devils", after Charlie's proposal, and reflecting my own interpretive dance. In other words, this would be AU._

**...........................................................................................................................**

**The Zoo in the Kitchen**

The elephant was the most powerful thing in the house, and in charge of them all. Early the next morning, Don joined Alan in the kitchen for coffee. They sat at the table and sipped from their mugs while the oatmeal was cooking, and they talked about headlines in the morning paper; aphids in the rosebushes outside; the current recession; anything except Charlie and Amita. They each held onto their secrets tightly, unsure how to process the information they harbored.

The discussion grew even more trivial when Charlie joined them. At one point, as he dished up the oatmeal, Alan asked his sons if they felt he was using the most effective dryer sheet for the money. Charlie didn't even pretend to answer, but Alan and Don were still discussing the topic between bites of breakfast when Amita pushed into the kitchen. "Good morning, everyone," she greeted, a tad nervously, Don thought. "I thought I'd get back to work today."

Alan smiled at her kindly. "That's wonderful, if you feel up to it, dear. Be sure to have a hearty breakfast, first."

Don had seen Charlie flinch almost imperceptibly when Amita first came into the kitchen, and he pushed his chair back from the table. "I've gotta swing by the apartment before work," he stammered, feeling a little like he was abandoning his brother. "Everybody, have a good day."

To his surprise, Alan did not protest that Don had not finished his oatmeal, but pushed back his own chair – his bowl of oatmeal still half-full. "The market!" he cried, and everyone turned to look at him. Alan reddened. "You have to be early, for the best choice," he explained lamely. He looked desperately at Don. "Son, I'll walk out with you. I want to see if you're available for lunch, later." Alan veered to the refrigerator to kiss Amita, who was still pouring orange juice, on the cheek. Then, he passed close behind Charlie's chair, slapping him so hard on the shoulder that Charlie almost choked on a mouthful of oatmeal. It was a testament to his consternation that Alan didn't even notice, but went on to practically shove Don out the kitchen door, following right on his heels.

Charlie wiped his mouth with a napkin and then used the same napkin to mop lumps of oatmeal off the table. "That was strange," he noted. "What's up with them?" he asked rhetorically.

Amita brought her orange juice to the table and sat, not in her usual place next to Charlie, but in Alan's recently vacated chair at the head of the table, so that she could see him better. "I was about to ask you the same thing," she stated boldly, ignoring the gray beast sitting on the other side of the table. The elephant blinked in surprise – no-one ever ignored him – and swung his trunk in Charlie's direction, daring him to answer.

Charlie didn't let his zoo friend down. "I'm not sure what you mean," he answered primly.

Amita clutched the glass of OJ a little tighter, refusing the temptation to toss her hair defiantly around her shoulders. "You left the bed, last night; and you never came back."

The elephant swished its tail.

Charlie laid down his spoon. "I couldn't sleep," he offered. "I knew you were tired, and I didn't want my tossing and turning to keep you awake all night."

Amita smiled, as sarcastically as she ever did. "So, it was nothing personal."

Charlie detected the sarcasm, called her on it, and raised her with a dose of bitterness. "I was trying to be considerate," he countered. "Most people would see that as _personal_."

The elephant flopped its gigantic ears in warning. He was meant to be ignored, and a fight simply would not do.

Amita seemed to feel the breeze, and quickly raised the glass to her lips, taking a sip of orange juice while she regrouped. When Charlie laid his spoon down on the table, and looked as if he were about to get up and leave, she put the glass back on the table and leaned forward to touch his hand. The elephant roared so loudly Charlie had difficulty hearing her, at first.

"Charlie," she started quietly, "I don't love you any less today than I did yesterday. Probably more, in fact. Do you believe that?"

Charlie blinked, and the elephant shrank; it was more like a water buffalo, now. "Yes," he finally admitted, smiling at her so sadly she knew that knowledge wasn't making it any easier for him.

"I would never hurt you intentionally," Amita declared again, repeating her sentiments from the night before. "I know how crazy this sounds, but I'm actually trying _not_ to hurt you; jumping into something as serious and precious as marriage when I am so unsure of myself and confused...I'm afraid it would be a mistake that we both might pay dearly for, later." She let go of his hand and sat back in the chair, frustrated. "Oh! I wish that you understood!"

The elephant, now the size of a large raccoon, jumped to the floor and stomped its tiny feet angrily before it skittered underneath the table and started chewing on Charlie's ankle. His expression became guarded, and closed. "I'm trying," was all he said before he pushed back his chair and changed the subject. "Do you want to carpool today? I promised Larry I'd stay late and speak to his Seminar in Theoretical Astrophysics this evening -- but I'm sure he'll give me a right home." He stood. "Of course, you haven't eaten, yet."

Amita stood as well. "That's all-right," she answered. "My first class isn't until almost 10, so I'll have time to grab something on campus. Just let me get my things."

**...............................................................................................**

Don caved before the sandwiches were delivered to the table.

In his defense, he thought Alan might know already; his odd behavior at breakfast and his distraction now were testament to the fact that he at least had an inkling something was going on. So Don drained half his glass of ice water, set the glass back on the table, and confessed. "Charlie asked Amita to marry him last night."

Alan's entire face brightened with a gleeful smile while Don gave his father time to connect the dots. By his estimation, it took 2.4 seconds. Alan's smile fell. "You're not serious. She didn't. She wouldn't."

Don shrugged, and waited for the waitress who had just arrived to put their plates in front of them and leave. He smiled his thanks at her and then looked back at his father. "Not exactly, I guess. Charlie said she didn't really use the 'N' word; she just didn't say 'yes'."

Alan looked hopeful. "Perhaps she's still thinking about it?"

Don crushed him under his thumb, like an ant. "That's not the impression I got from Charlie."

Alan looked disparingly at his turkey sandwich, his appetite gone. "That explains why he slept in the solarium, last night."

This was news to Don, and he lifted an eyebrow. His roast beef began to congeal. "Uh-oh," he muttered. He sighed. "Poor kid. He's kind-of clueless about the whole timing thing. He's had the ring for a month, and was trying to plan a romantic get-away for the two of them, but they're both so busy...and then she was kidnapped by Duryea, and Charlie freaked. I was actually proud of him for holding it together as much as he did, and not going all 'P vs NP' on us, but the experience still pushed him over the edge. I don't think this was the wisest time for a marriage proposal."

Alan frowned. "Obviously," he concurred. "Although I can certainly understand Charlie's position. I was so relieved to get her back virtually unharmed, I almost proposed to her myself!"

Don smiled, picked up his fork and pushed at his potato salad. "I know what you mean," he said. "I kept thinking about how I would feel if it were Robin...and I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing."

Alan's eyes flashed and he picked up his sandwich. "Tell me more," he suggested.

**...............................................................................................**

Larry settled on the couch in Charlie's new office and picked up a recent math journal from the low table in front of him. They still had a few minutes before his seminar, and Charlie seemed to be grading some quizzes. Luckily, the mathematician could usually do at least two things at once, so Larry started a conversation. "It was such a pleasure to see Amita back with us, today. How is she faring since the abduction, Charles?"

"Okay, I guess," Charlie answered, scribbling a note in the margin of the paper he was reading.

Larry looked up from the journal. "Well, I'm certain that she will find each day easier," he said. He seemed to think for a moment, and then smiled. "Charles, I've been thinking about your upcoming proposal."

Charlie glanced at his friend; he should have known it was a mistake to take Larry with him when he went ring shopping. "Well, don't," he warned.

Larry misunderstood. "Oh, I have no intention of influencing your decision," he assured. "I just wanted to tell you about a lovely B&B Megan and I located once near Mendocino. I believe that both you and Amita would appreciate the amenities and nearby recreational opportunities." He sighed. "It sits right on the coastline; stunning views. We always intended to return, one day. I'm sure I have the information in my office somewhere -- I could look for the brochure."

Charlie put one hand up. "Stop," he said painfully. "Just stop. I'm an idiot, I know that."

Larry's smile faltered and he stopped thinking about Megan and wondered what he had missed this time. He leaned forward and tossed the magazine onto the table. "Charles?"

Charlie blinked rapidly, and his voice cracked. "I know I should have made the proposal more special, waited a little longer...but I couldn't. I just...couldn't bear the thought of her not being completely mine for one day longer." He actually sneered, a little. "I'm so stupid, I actually thought it was _romantic_ to bring her here, and propose to her out on the quad. After all, this is where we first met!" He ran his hand through his dark curls and looked blankly at the paper in front of him. "God, I am such an idiot. I only succeeded in jeapordizing what we already had!"

Larry suddenly felt like looking at his feet to see if the room was flooding with quicksand. From Charlie's state of mind, it was obvious that Amita's reaction to the proposal had not been positive. Slowly, one hand crept up to tug on an earlobe. "Oh, dear," he intoned. "Charles, I am truly sor..."

Charlie abruptly stood. "I don't want to talk about it," he announced in a tone that indicated in no uncertain terms the veracity of his statement. "Let's go to your seminar."

**...............................................................................................**

**_to be continued..._  
**


	5. I Want a Redo

**Call for Help**

**by FraidyCat**

**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs characters respectfully borrowed from CBS et al. No claim of ownership comes from The Cat. Those who seek to bestow money or goods-in-kind in appreciation of these characters should contact CBS, as The Cat will refuse to profit from this story.

**Review Policy:** As of 5-19-08, the author adopts the following review policy: Please feel free to state your opinion, whether it be positive or negative. Anonymous Reviews have been disabled on this account, since the author does find it difficult to respect cowards. Any review submitted may generate a response from the author; even negative reviews will be accepted – although they may open a dialogue between the author and the reviewer.

_Continued scenes taking place after "Angels and Devils", after Charlie's proposal, and reflecting my own interpretive dance._ _I.E., it's AU._

**..............................................................................................................**

"**I Want a Re-do"**

The days progressed; as days will.

Amita couldn't say that Charlie was holding a grudge, exactly. On the contrary, he was unerringly polite, considerate and gentlemanly with her. He opened doors for her; completed not only his own share of household chores, but some of hers, as well; he encouraged her to see a counselor, if it would help her deal with the horrors of the abduction. He consulted on a case for Don, and helped Larry with an article he was writing for an educational journal. To all outside appearances, things would see to be back to normal.

Yet.

He was rarely home, and seemed to go out of his way to avoid intimate contact with her when he was. They were sleeping in the same bed again, but since the aborted proposal, Charlie had not initiated sex on even one occasion. The few times Amita had tentatively been the aggressor, he had completed his responsibilities; done his duty, as it were, but there was none of the wild abandon or nearly uncontrollable passion that had once convinced Alan to start sleeping with an iPod earjack in his ear. When it was over, he rolled away from her and went to sleep; he never spooned her in the bed anymore, and she felt a little farther away from him every day. She started to feel a little guilty after sex, as if she had done something unsavory with her obsequious and unfailingly cordial brother. He did not protest when she stopped making advances.

She only spoke with the counselor about the kidnapping itself a few times. After that, she spoke almost exclusively about her relationship with Charlie. At first, the counselor told her that Charlie was dealing with ramifications from the abduction as well, and she should be patient. Eventually, the counselor began to tell Amita that she might have to make a choice, between living with Charlie – and living in health and happiness. It was true that in the month since the kidnapping, Amita had experienced both a severe cold and a migraine, both of which caused her to lose a day of work, and neither of which she had ever been particularly subject to before. When she had the migraine, and Charlie was so tender and conciliatory toward her, darkening the bedroom and sharing coping techniques that he had learned from years of suffering from migraines himself, Amita began to wonder if she was subconsciously doing whatever she had to, to feel close to him again.

She was coming down the stairs in the Craftsman one evening when she heard something that made her turn around and go right back up; Charlie was laughing. Don had joined them for dinner, and now all three Eppes were in the living room. Don was entertaining his father and brother with a story about the office; the punch line seemed to involve Colby on the floor of the breakroom, an entire pizza decorating his shirt, sitting in a puddle formed by three shattered bottles of water. Back upstairs, sitting on the edge of the bed and clutching a sheaf of quizzes she had intended to grade to her chest, Amita realized that she had not heard Charlie laugh – really laugh -- since she had stonewalled his proposal. Rather, whenever he was in her company, he was always slightly reserved; almost wary.

Thinking about it further, she realized that she never laughed very much herself, anymore – mostly because it had always been Charlie who had made her laugh before. He had a dry wit and slightly off-key sense of humor that she had always found adorable – and now, discovered that she missed.

Amita slowly got up and moved to sit at the desk, placing her papers on top. This wasn't what she had wanted; this was exactly the _opposite_ of what she had wanted -- for both of them. Maybe the therapist had been right to suggest that Amita's reluctance to accept Charlie's proposal had been appropriate, and she should consider re-establishing her independence and a feeling of control by living on her own, again. She gazed blindly at the test papers in front of her for several minutes; then, she picked up her cell phone from the edge of the desk and made a call. By the end of it she was crying, and she knew there would be no grading tonight. Distraught, she slipped into Charlie's bed and lay on her side, clutching his pillow to her bosom, inhaling the scent of him, and wishing that things were different. She was asleep when Charlie finally came to bed, and he was surprised at her new sleeping position. He wanted the pillow, but he was loathe to disturb her. Finally he padded back downstairs and grabbed one of the decorative pillows off the end of the couch -- better than nothing -- and took it upstairs.

The next morning was their late morning; neither one of them had to be on campus before 11. They had arranged their schedules that way intentionally, and used to enjoy spending a few stolen hours together mid-week. They used to sleep-in, enjoy leisurely sex, maybe do a little housekeeping or a few errands together. Since the botched proposal, the extra hours had become more of a punishment than a reward, however. Charlie had heard his father's car pull out of the driveway, so he was anticipating their late breakfast together with even less pleasure than usual. He plastered on the best smile he could, though, and pushed through the swinging kitchen door to take it like a man.

Amita was sitting quietly at the table, half a piece of toast on a saucer in front of her. A nearly empty glass of milk stood next to it. Charlie paused behind her and leaned to perfunctorily kiss the top of her head. " 'Mornin'," he greeted, his voice raspy from lack of use. He straightened and continued toward the refrigerator. "Is that all you're having? Aren't you feeling well this morning?"

"I'm fine," Amita answered, waiting for him to pour his own glass of milk and come back to the table. She dabbed quickly at her eyes with a napkin clutched in her hand while his back was turned.

Soon Charlie was back, precariously balancing the full glass, an empty bowl, a spoon and a box of cereal. He set himself up at the table and sat. "Sure you don't want some?" he asked, offering Amita the box of sugar-coated flakes. He shrugged when she shook her head silently, and placed the box strategically between them.

He was pouring some of the milk from the glass into his bowl of cereal when she made her announcement. "Charlie, I've been thinking. I've decided that living on my own again might help me feel a little more in control, and independent. I... I want you to understand that I'm not leaving you, or this relationship...but let's face it. We could probably both do with a little space right now."

Charlie had put down the milk and started to pick up the spoon, but now it clattered heavily on the table as he dropped it. His eyes widened in disbelief. "You're moving out?" he clarified. "Now? After all this time?"

She blinked to hold back the tears and smiled at him tremulously. "Things aren't getting better," she whispered. "Surely you can see that." Charlie just stared at her with the same expression of hurt that she remembered so well from the night of the proposal, and she rushed on. "Alan will be gone this evening; his book club is going to dinner in the city, and then a book signing," she said. "It will be easier for me to do this if neither of you are here; perhaps you can arrange to see Don after work?"

Charlie's mouth opened, closed, and opened again. He felt as if he should offer to help her, like he had when she had moved in -- but how could he help her leave him behind? "You'll need help," he finally squeaked.

Amita looked away. "I still have several unopened boxes stored in the garage," she pointed out. "I just intend to box up the few things I have here in the house and put all the boxes out there together; some of my students will pick them up this weekend. I won't take long tonight, so it should go fairly quickly. I'll come at 6. If you could stay away until 9, I should be finished by then."

Charlie actually looked at his chest for a moment to see if there was a knife protruding from it. "Where will you go?" he asked plaintively.

She hedged. "I'll probably stay with a friend for a few days while I'm checking around campus for sublets. I don't want anything...permanent, right now."

_Especially not me_, Charlie thought. He looked at his bowl of soggy cereal and considered throwing up all over it. He had really done it this time. Oh, it had taken longer than anyone probably thought it would, but he had still managed in the end to totally screw up the best thing that would ever happen to him. Even though he had tried to be gentle, and considerate, and non-assuming over the last month, it had not been enough to repair the damage he had done with his ill-timed proposal. He barely managed to choke out, "Whatever you need to do. I want you to be happy..." before he pushed back his chair and bolted from the room.

.**............................................................................................**

Don was a little surprised it took Charlie so long to show up at the office. Since Robin had called him this morning and told him she was helping Amita move out of the Craftsman that evening, he had been looking toward the elevator every five minutes. He had even tried to call; calls to Charlie's cell went to voice mail, and a CalSci operator had tartly informed him that Dr. Eppes was not due on campus until 11, but had called in sick and would not be available at all that day. Don had hung up with a sigh; he hadn't reallly known what he was going to say to Charlie anyway. He wasn't sure Amita was going to tell him Robin was serving as an accomplice -- and Don wasn't about to confess that not only was his girlfriend helping to break Charlie's heart (again), she had leaked the news. In fact, at first he had been a little angry with Robin himself for agreeing not only to help Amita tonight, but then offering her temporary housing -- but when he had calmed down, he realized that he really wouldn't have it any other way. Amita obviously wanted things to work out eventually, and was trying to stay within the family circle. Still, Charlie probably would not be so understanding.

David and Colby went to lunch around noon, and Nikki hadn't come in that day; even Don believed in a few hours off after a root canal. He stayed in the bullpen and ate a stale sandwich out of the breakroom machine, and waited for his brother to either show up, or return his calls.

It was 12:45 when he heard the ding that indicated the elevator was arriving, and he was looking at it when the doors slid open to reveal Charlie -- barefoot, in an old t-shirt and the sweat pants he often slept in, accompanied by an armed guard. Don's eyebrows shot up and he rose to meet the disembarking duo. The guard was handing Charlie a visitor's pass when he got there, and smiled at Don. "Your brother forgot his I.D.," he informed him, glancing pointedly at Charlie's bare feet, "among other things." He lowered his voice. "I know I could have given him the pass downstairs, but he seemed a little rattled. Thought I'd bring him on up."

Don put one hand on one of Charlie's shoulders and squeezed while he smiled at the guard. "Thanks, Mike," he said. "I've got some spare sneakers in my locker." Mike laughed and returned to the elevator while Don led a silent Charlie into the blessedly empty breakroom and sat him at the table. He quickly moved to one of the machines and bought a cold bottle of water, which he placed in front of Charlie, then sat down opposite him. "So what's up?"

Charlie looked at him like a man who had lost his best friend. No doubt, he was feeling that way, too. "She's moving out. Tonight."

Don was ready; he had already had hours to think about this. "Do you want her to?"

Charlie started. "What? No, no, of course not!"

"What _do_ you want?" Don pressed.

Charlie ran a slightly trembling hand through rumpled, uncombed hair. "I... I want a re-do," he finally answered. "I want this last month to have never happened. The last _two_ months, beginning with your stabbing, and including her kidnapping."

Don smiled at him fondly. "You and me both," he muttered. He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other knee. "Buddy, none of us can make that part of the dream come true...but if you want a re-do, take it."

Charlie blinked at him. "What?" he asked again.

"You've tried to fix things via the gentle route, and it's only gotten worse. She's moving out, this could be your last chance to make an impression," He grinned, wickedly. "I say, make it a big one. Go grand. What have you got to lose? More importantly, _who_ have you got to _gain_?"

Charlie looked doubtful. "But...she'll be there at 6. There's no time..."

Don glanced at his watch. "If I were you, I'd hurry up."

Charlie ran his hand through his hair again, then looked at the floor for a moment. When he looked back up, there was a glint in his eye that had not been there before, and he had one last question for Don. "Can I borrow your shoes?"

**........................................................................................**

_**Next...Charlie's Grand Gesture, which shall serve as our Epilogue (before I get myself killed)**_


	6. Master of His Own Domain

**Call for Help**

**by FraidyCat**

**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs characters respectfully borrowed from CBS et al. No claim of ownership comes from The Cat. Those who seek to bestow money or goods-in-kind in appreciation of these characters should contact CBS, as The Cat will refuse to profit from this story.

_Epilogue to our exciting (AU) tale._

**....................................................................................................**

**Master of His Own Domain**

Amita breathed a sigh of relief as she followed Robin's car into an empty driveway. Alan had indeed left, and Charlie was honoring her request. The two women would make quick work of completely dessimating her life, she thought, mouth twisting wryly.

She climbed out of her car and slammed the door; Robin was already waiting for her beside her own car. "Thanks again for doing this," Amita said as she drew even with her. "I hope this doesn't end up putting you in a difficult position with Don." She tried to keep the conversation light. "One relationship on the rocks at a time is enough!"

Robin smiled and fell into step beside Amita as they approached the front door. "Don gave up telling me what to do long ago," she answered. Then she looked sideways at Amita and winked. "Besides, I usually enjoy difficult positions with Don."

Amita laughed in spite of herself and inserted a key into the front door's lock. She turned the key, pushed the door open, took a few steps inside while her head was still turned, talking to Robin – and then rotated her head to the front, and stopped stock-still. Robin slammed into Amita's back and pushed her another step forward. She made a noise that started as an oomph of unexpected contact and ended with an "Oh, my God" as the scene in the Craftsman living room made itself known.

All the furniture had apparently been moved into other rooms. The living room had been emptied, and then filled with at least six inches of rose petals, in every color of the rainbow. Shades of red, peach and yellow mingled with a stark white to form a fragrant, lush carpet. In the absolute center of the room, facing the door with his hands behind his back, stood Charlie.

Completely, 100 percent, absolutely, naked.

"Oh, dear God," Robin squeaked again, abruptly turning her back on an image she hoped never to see again. She found herself wondering if the therapist Amita had been seeing offered group rates.

"Charlie!" Amita choked, her voice nearly as shell-shocked as Robin's, "_what are you doing?_" She gestured around the living room. "_What have you done?_"

Charlie brought his arms out from behind his back, presenting no less than three dozen long-stem red roses, which he held rather low over his naked body – for Robin's sake. He hadn't really been expecting her (something Don would hear about later), but he was determined not to let it throw him. "This is all I am," he answered. "All I really have to offer you is myself, at my most vulnerable." The roses were tickling his genitalia, and he shifted a little, almost losing his place. Finally he continued with the speech he had memorized. "Amita, you are more beautiful than every rose in Los Angeles put together. I know, because every last one of them is here, and you outshine them all." Amita blinked and her mouth fell open slightly.

Charlie went on. "I cannot imagine – I refuse to consider – a life without you. I still hope that we can work something out, and have children, because I think it would be a crime for you not to replicate yourself...but if I have to choose between having children someday, and having you at all, there is no choice to make." He smiled slightly. "I'll just tell Don to get on the ball so I can be an eccentric uncle to a gaggle of nieces and nephews." Robin made another choking sound, but Charlie ignored her, looking only at Amita. "You are intelligent, and kind, and funny, and exciting, and everything I ever wanted. I will wait for you as long as I have to, and I will do anything you ask. Amita Ramanujan, I love you with all my heart. I love you more than chalk. I love you more than numbers. I love you more than Pi." He stretched out the roses he was holding toward her. "Please marry me."

Amita stood silent for so long that Charlie's arms began to tremble and Robin elbowed her in the back. "Are you _crazy_?" she hissed. "How can you ignore that?"

Amita seemed to come out of a trance, and a bright smile crept over her face. "I'm not," she defended. "I'm waiting for the ring. As I recall, it was beautiful."

Charlie smiled widely, and dropped the roses, fully exposing himself again as he began to wade toward Amita through the rose petals. "We have to find it," he said. "It's somewhere under all these rose petals."

Amita was having difficulty controlling tears battling for freedom, and her voice wavered as she moved to meet her lover, her best friend, her eventual husband. "Oh, Charlie," she whispered softly. "I don't want a life without you, either!" She realized as she said it how true it was. She was seeking security in the wrong place -- in a solitary life -- when it was already hers for the taking, with Charlie. A single tear crept from one eye, refusing to be held back. "Of course I'll marry you!"

Robin, her back still turned, smiled. "Good luck with that ring thing," she said. "Don asked Alan to stay at his apartment tonight so that he wouldn't have to drive all the way back from the city – so take your time. Although you might want to be careful of thorns." A little afraid of what she might see, she looked quickly over her shoulder. Amita was in Charlie's arms, and they were both crying, blubbering like babies.

Robin smiled again, and moved the few feet to the door, so that she could return to her vehicle. The smell of the roses was almost pungent, and the spring evening was full of life and allergens.

At least that's what Robin told herself, when her own eyes started tearing.

**..........................................................................**

Don stood at one grill, eyeing a plate of rib-eye, waiting for the coals to get hot. Charlie was standing next to him manning a smaller grill, on which skewers of vegetables-and-tofu were simmering for Amita. He brushed them with teriyaki sauce and smiled to himself as the sound of Amita's laughter traveled across the lawn; she and Robin were helping Alan carry enough side dishes for an army out to the picnic table. Don followed his gaze, grinning. "You guys set a date, yet?" he asked.

Charlie sighed. "Not exactly. Probably at the end of next school year, but we're not sure, yet." He cleared his throat, suddenly a little embarrassed. "We're going to find another trauma counselor and attend a few sessions together. We also intend to get into some kind of premarital counseling."

Don was a little surprised that his brother was so willingly embracing something so...unscientific, but he had to admit he thought both things were a good idea. "You know, they offer that kind of thing down at the synagogue," he offered half-seriously. "I could speak to Rabbi Shergill for you."

Charlie glanced at him quickly. "I'll get back to you on that," he hedged.

Don smiled again, watching Robin walk back into the house -- not a bad view. "I can't believe you flashed my girlfriend."

A low, answering growl from Charlie. "I can't believe you didn't tell me she was going to be with Amita!"

Don laughed out loud. "That secret came back to bite me in the ass, didn't it?" Charlie smiled. Don decided he had waited long enough and started piling steaks on the grill. "I guess you know there is no way for me to top that performance," he noted. "I mean, come on, Buddy -- you bought up every last rose in Los Angeles, and then presented yourself in your hair suit?"

Charlie blushed. "I didn't have time to rent a tux," he pouted. He leaned over to peer at the skewers before straightening again and lowering the lid of the grill. He looked at Don. "Seriously, I could design an algorithm, with enough data. First we can research truly unique proposals -- I'm sure there's something on Google -- and then we can cross-match with specific likes and dislikes possessed by Robin..."

Don interrupted him with a sharp elbow to the ribs, rolling his eyes. "I think _you_ could be possessed," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Nothing personal, Charlie, but I think you've helped me enough in this matter already."

Charlie looked a little disappointed, and then a gleam showed in his eye. "Are you saying you're going to ask her?"

Don just smiled benignly, haloed in the smoke of the grill. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

**......................................................................**

**END of our Alternate Universe...**

**......................................................................**

_**A/N, Hiatus:** The last several stories I have posted have generated much negative response, this one in particular. I join many other fanfic writers, in more categories than "Numb3rs", by the way, who are distressed at a relatively new level of "meanness" that has overcome fanfic reviewers. While anyone is well within her rights to dislike (and therefore __stop reading) a particular storyline, "this story is awful" is not a constructive review. If there is a problem with grammar, spelling, punctuation, character development (regardless of whether or not the reviewer particularly appreciates AU or OC stories), those things should be addressed during reviews. There used to be a time when fanfic readers determined from a summary whether or not they wanted to read a story, and simply skipped something that did not appeal to them. (I, for instance, seldom partake in something marked as "slash". This does not mean I read the story anyway, knowing I will hate it, and then pummel the author with legitimate reviews, PMs and e-mails declaring how awful her story is, over and over and over and over and over....) Long story short (or is it too late for that?), FraidyCat will be on haitus for the foreseeable future. This is not a protest of negative reviews so much as it is a protest against pointlessly mean ones. Congratulations to those of you who know who you are; you have successfully declawed The Cat._

_As for the rest of you, the overwhelming majority of you, I thank you for three years of loyalty and support. You gave me the strength to hold out as long as I did -- and it is to you that I will eventually return._


End file.
